


Epistaxis

by boringhomosexual



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU, AU (alternate universe), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Ben is a spoiled little brat, Blood, Cocaine, Day Dreaming, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Light Gore (i guess), M/M, Masturbation, Millicent the cat - Freeform, NYC Nightlife AU, New York City, Nicknames, Nightlife AU, Old Ladies flirting (ew), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swearing, Vomiting, Wall Street, Wall Street Dog, hangovers, pruning, they're both so gay lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boringhomosexual/pseuds/boringhomosexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>ep·i·stax·is</b><br/>ˌepəˈstaksis<br/>noun - MEDICINE<br/><i>bleeding from the nose.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>“What do you want?”</i></p>
<p>  <i>The man simply smiled, a devious one at that, and cleared his throat. </i></p>
<p>  <i>“Just wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren’t drowning in your own vomit, party boy.”</i></p>
<p>  <i>The second the man started talking, Ben felt the blood in his veins run cold. Who the hell was this guy, making fun of him? No one made fun of a Skywalker, or Solo. No one.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Fresh Start

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thing I wrote purely for my own dirty pleasures. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing this.

A fresh start.

That’s all anyone ever wanted when their life went to shit. Even if “went to shit” was referring to losing contact with a mother and a sister, or just losing an investment for a certain company. And let me tell you, by following those standards, two very important men’s lives definitely needed a fresh start.

Time was slowed down. Blurred, almost. Shitty pop music played in the background of the young man’s head, sloshing his brains and melting them along with the vodka. Is this what he wanted with his life? Yes. He needed this. A fresh start. The memories were swirling around like the poison in his stomach: He had taken a cab to get here. Or more like, wasted almost an hour of his pathetic life running after about thirty cabs, before finally stopping one. By this time, he was raging, almost yelling out the address to the timid foreign man in the seat in front of him. He had that effect on people: intimidation. If he looked at someone the right way, they could be putty in his hands. And that's how he liked it. Even when he got to the bar and had to prove he was on the list, he felt empowered. That’s how Ben solo liked to feel. In control. 

Ever since he was little, Ben had experienced no trouble with his life, whether it be money, or having friends. ‘Always pressuring the younger ones to coming to his birthdays,’ his mother had said once. They were a pretty well-off family from the get-go, with the add on of the will of the famous Anakin Skywalker, the war hero. Usually, veterans do not make that much money, but Anakin had used his charm and charisma to slide through the slippery slopes of government funds, until he was basically a millionaire. He had also bought some shitty company on the way. Ben had always looked up to him, even when a scandal or rumour would go around the news. The beginning of his downfall started when he had heard about his grandfather’s death. He had broken his fish tank and homework desk that night, forced to sleep on the couch, in punishment. 

More and more outbursts continued, until his family was basically foreign to him, and he grabbed enough money to move out. Why didn't he move out at 18? Some may have asked. Well, there was no simple answer to that. Maybe he was still attached to his family, not wanting to let go the small thread of home he had left, maybe he was scared to move? Maybe, it had just been the shitty economy of America, which left him waiting for a fucking apartment for almost three years. Through one of those ways, he ended up in a studio apartment, smack dab in the middle of Manhattan. 

He wasn’t too sure what to expect at first, getting a few smiles and a few scowls from well informed individuals here and there, but nothing major. He commuted like an average New York citizen, taking cabs and subways mostly wherever he went. The only main difference between him and the normal Big Apple citizen, was the fact that he hated practically everyone he saw. Whether it was what they wore, who they supported politically, or just how they talked, if Ben was given a reason to hate, he would take it. Life was pretty boring, and he felt like he had been forgotten about, until he got a letter from international pop singer, Phasma, inviting him to a party. A casual, NYC, big league party. Sure, it wasn’t one of Anakin’s old generals, but he had never felt so happy in his life. He eagerly accepted, messaging the number given on the letter. 

_“Ben, RSVPing. I am available for the party on Friday.”_

He wanted to keep it professional, due to her high status. Holy shit. He had really just gotten a pop star’s number. Within a few minutes, he got a reply, almost jumping up from his seat on the couch.

“See you there.” She signed it off with her classic space-ship emoji, which she used on multiple album covers. He felt oddly happy when he saw that stupid little thing. 

And that led back to present day, where Ben was drunk off his ass, reminiscing about times that had gone by. He was sitting alone at one of the bar stools at the bar Phasma was holding her party in. His long legs were almost touching the ground, despite the height of the stool. There were three empty bottles in front of him, some sort of cheap beer with a shitty logo probably made in photoshop, while he was gently nursing his fourth drink with a single hand, taking small sips. People tried starting simple ice-breaking conversation with him, but his responses were mumbles. Clearly, he was not used to this. Although he was drunk, he still had his sense about him, noticing when people got too close or were about to knock something over.

What he didn’t notice, was a man staring at him. Boring holes into the back of his head, singing those black locks with his piercing eyes. 

Ben was always told not to mess with investors. They always knew how to get their way, some would say. 

This man was an investor. And tonight, he had seen some fresh meat.

Mr. Hux was your average wall street dog. He had lived in Brooklyn basically his whole life, taking the drive to Manhattan by limo, and Uber every now and then. It was all routine for him. When his father had told him, “you are to be an investor”, he listened. He had been trained to listen. Although ever since he had gotten his first job, he had been towards the executive part of the spectrum, he was always extremely good at taking orders. Even with that, he was also very independent; a very well-rounded man. He would take his chances in his stocks, usually getting a lot of money. 

He would also attend parties a lot, but not for the reason that most would think one would attend a party. He did it for business. For popularity. If he knew at least one famous person, whether good or bad, was going to be there, he was sure to attend. Now, with this mindset, parties could go one of two ways. They could involve the ginger crushing his competition by the balls, humiliating them in front of the whole party, in just a game of wits, or, on the other hand, lead to blackmail-worthy sex, and a spike in his bank account. Either way, hux was purely a businessman. Totally experienced, in every sense of the word. 

He had made his way to Phasma’s party a little early. More like three hours, but he needed to scope out the place for good places to do one of his two business tactics. Even in a crowd of drunk celebrities, he was very easy to spot, due to his flaming red hair. Contrary to popular belief, it was naturally that vibrant, and caught the eyes of many when he attended parties. In fact, it was usually the quality that gave the fact that he was Brendol Hux’s son away. It was a gift and a curse. 

Eventually, he took a seat that had a good view of the whole bar, making sure to present himself as professional. He was clad in a simple white button up, with a navy blue suit jacket, and matching pants. To top it off, he wore a matching bow-tie, his collar pulled up a little high on his neck. Despite the height of the collar, his chiseled features could easily be seen: the adam’s apple, a very masculine feature, which bobbed whenever he talked. His apparel matched his face, sharp, chiseled, and stony. He clearly was good at hiding his emotions. After evaluating himself, and making sure he looked well enough, he scoped out the room. No one really caught his interest. This was until Ben Solo walked into the room. He recognized him immediately by his mane of hair, and the family face. This would be his prey. His competition. 

After about an hour of watching, he had seen Ben get shit-faced, still drinking more, and avidly flirting with everyone he saw. He found it funny, how one of the richest men in the world had a grandson, and this grandson was wearing a tee-shirt and converse, along with some dreaded skinny jeans. It was funny to him. If he performed a stunt like that, people would never see him the same. Definitely not eyeing his groin, which was tight in those jeans, Hux studied him. He was definitely new to the lifestyle. He didn't seem to care about his reputation, making defeating him a whole lot easier. He had been counting the other man's drinks. Four beers, and he had gone to shots, having about three of those. He was surprised by the man's tolerance, counting down the minutes. 3.. 2… It was sooner than he expected. 

Ben shot up, grabbing his mouth with his hand, and ran to the bathroom. Retching could be heard by the whole bar, and everyone went silent for a few moments. Soon the numbing chitter-chatter resumed, but He kept his eyes trained on the bathroom. When the seconds turned into minutes, he decided to wander after him, getting up from his seat. He had been sitting for basically the whole time, sipping on a glass of whiskey, so when he stood up, it took a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings. Eventually, he made it to the doorway to the bathroom, waiting.

Ben was in hell. He had gone from cloud nine to the lowest level of hell, in about three split seconds. It had come on fast, like a tsunami on the edge of fucking Japan, when he was stumbling to the bathroom, the world spinning. He pushed open the door, hoping to god that no one was in there. There was a man in there, pissing, but he quickly left when he heard retching in the stall. Everything, including his vision, had gone cloudy, and all he could sense was all of the alcohol leaving his body. This was not fun. This was not fun. He felt his stomach empty, and was soon dry-heaving. 

When he finally regains his senses, and gets up, slowly turning to wash his face, he hears footsteps. Ignoring them, hoping the person would go away, he tries his best to clean himself, but looks like he just crawled out of hell. His hair is caked with saliva, and his eyes droop with fatigue, a few blood vessels popped from all the puking. He then slowly walks out of the bathroom, where he meets eyes with the red-headed man. Hux knows who he is. Almost anyone at the party, if they knew anything, knew who he was. Anakin's grandson. They practically looked the same. Ben on the other hand, had no idea who the stony-faced man in front of him was. He just stared for a moment, dazed, before mumbling, his voice raspy,

“What do you want?”

The man simply smiled, a devious one at that, and cleared his throat. 

“Just wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren’t drowning in your own vomit, party boy.”

The second the man started talking, Ben felt the blood in his veins run cold. Who the hell was this guy, making fun of him? No one made fun of a Skywalker, or Solo. No one. After another clearing of his throat, he responded, bitterly. 

“And who the hell do you think you are, Ginger?” 

The younger of the two had a slur to his voice. Hux just smiled more, his bright green eyes boring into Ben's soul for the second time that night. He made sure to really intimidate him, before speaking again.

“Brendol Hux, Jr.” He states rather calmly. “I think someone of my caliber deserves a bit more respect from some.. _Spoiled brat._ ” 

By this time, Ben is livid, mostly due to Hux’s rude nature, but also because the vodka still in his system was getting to him, his emotions soaking through him like a towel trying to dry a waterfall. He stumbles forward, trying to push at Hux, but trips over his own feet, landing against the gingers chest, his head still spinning a bit. Hux just laughed, softly, if he thought about it, and held him by the arm, bringing him back to the bar. 

Ben was quiet at this point, feeling defeated by himself, not even able to punch some scrawny old ginger guy. That name.. Hux.. had been swirling around his head since he had heard it. He was trying to place it. Some singer? No.. This was New York. His father, Brendol Hux, was a huge investor, and Hux Jr. had followed in his footsteps. When the realization dawned on him, he cleared his throat, as if something had gotten stuck in it. Couldn’t these kind of men ruin your life? How Wall Street _was_ this guy? He stood there, staring, still as drunk as before, as Hux said something to the bartender. His current state of mind drowned out exactly what he was saying, but it was clear he was ordering a drink. About three minutes of silence later, and the most expensive looking cocktail Ben had ever seen (granted, he hadn’t seen that many) appeared in front of him. He took a double take between the drink and Hux, who was smirking like a piece of shit millionaire. About 15 seconds later, he was sipping it as politely as he could.

This was the best drink he had ever tasted. He could taste some sweet vodka in there, but the alcohol was barely present among some exotic fruity taste. Of course, he couldn’t act impressed. That would amuse Hux, and that was the opposite of what he wanted to do. On the other side of things, Hux was still smiling at him like an eagle eyeing a small little finch. He could tell Ben loved the drink. Everyone liked that drink. He slid a fifty to the bartender, and Ben eyed him, taking his thick lips off of the straw. 

“ _...thank you._ ”

It was quiet, but Hux could guess what he had said, and nodded, softly. About twenty minutes passed, involving Ben sipping down his drink, not knowing how much alcohol he was drinking, and Hux trying to start small talk, only leaving with nods and grunts of approval or disapproval. It wasn’t exactly a victory, but Hux could tell Ben felt inferior, and he liked to keep him on edge. After he had finished his drink, he went to get up, as if walking away from the TV, completely forgetting his intoxication, and almost falling face-first onto the floor. If it weren’t for Hux dashing over and grabbing him, and slowly leading him to the door, he would probably be on the ground with a broken nose and a clouded head. 

When he had almost fallen, he was scared, but the second Hux caught him, he was put into an almost instant state of calm. He wasn’t sure whether it was the softness of his suit jacket, or the soft musk of his cologne, but he did not want to let go. That was, until he heard Hux snickering. 

“Take it easy on the drinks next time, babe.” 

Ben just kind of looked at him, half in pure hate, and half in thanks for the advice. He couldn’t think. He needed to go home and sleep. A cab came soon enough, and he climbed inside, limbs too long and lanky for the back-seat of the cab. He could feel those eyes on his back, and it was clear that Hux was just.. Watching him leave. Studying him. He tried not to think too hard about it. He heard the radio playing some dreaded rap, and he tried to listen, for once, trying to get the Ginger out of his head. It wasn’t working. Even in his state, he still smelt that cologne all over him, almost caressing him. It was working him up. 

Hux, on the other hand, was not going home any time soon. His whole plan had been to crush competition, or get higher up on that classic celebrity list. That’s what he came to do. He sat back down at his regular spot, and saw a few B list people… but ignored them. He had found his challenge: Ben Solo. Even if Leo DiCaprio had walked in at that moment, he probably would have been too distracted to notice, staring off into space with those glossy green eyes, thinking about the long haired, problematic boy. 

Ben got home around 1:00 AM, stripping to his boxers, taking a piss, and then slumping into his bed. Even with his clothes basically off, he could still smell the almost hypnotizing cologne of the city slicker. That fucking ginger and his.. Perfect cheekbones. His perfect green eyes. Ben was in too deep already. He took a few deep breaths, and let the darkness of his room sink in, asleep in less than five minutes. 

Today had been a very interesting day.


	2. Hangover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ben regrets the party the next day. Work ensues._

The night had been extremely long, yet at the same time, gone in the blink of an eye. About three minutes into trying to sleep, and Ben had to get up to puke again. It wasn’t the worst thing, and thankfully, the last time he would puke that night, but it was annoying all the same. He was still pretty intoxicated, not able to get a clear thought through that thick skull of his. 

So he just sat there, in his bed, trying his best to contemplate what had just happened. That was how parties were supposed to go in the big city, right? They were supposed to involve drinking until puking and passing out, like all of those songs said, right? How many shots was he supposed to take? Had he not taken enough?

Maybe he _was_ supposed to bring a lover home, for a one night stand.

These thoughts, and more, raced through his head, until he fell asleep. Granted, the sleeping position was not the best, involving him leaning on one elbow, and staring off into the distance, therefor propped up on it as he slept, basically instantly ensuring that there would be neck pain in the morning. Along with that, his hair was caked in weird positions from the vomit and drinks, sealing the deal with bedhead pretty early in the morning. 

Once the kid was asleep, he was out like a light. Dreams were something of the past. All he saw and heard was fuzziness, probably coming from inside his mind. For a night like this, with his head and stomach full of depressants, he should’ve felt like he was in a coma. Sleeping usually involved a lot of insomnia, and rage, along with the occasionally getting an hour or two in, and waking up grumpy. Tonight, he was out cold for almost ten hours straight, waking up once from a wave of nausea, but quickly falling back asleep. 

At around ten in the morning, he finally woke up. It started nice and slow, eyes opening slowly, and body stretching, as if in a commercial for beds. It _started_ like that. After a few seconds of the nice feeling of a good night’s sleep, nausea hit him like a slap in the face, and he sprinted to the bathroom, almost tripping, and barely making it to the toilet before he started heaving up the rest of his alcohol. 

This was when he started to remember the previous night. The party. The tasteless music. The drinks. _Hux.._ Damn that man. Even as Ben was tossing up his entire stomach content, he couldn’t get the man out of his mind. He was just too perfect. He finished with a cough, and wiped his face, quickly flushing the toilet. 

With a grimace, he sluggishly stood up, his sides almost abused from all of the hurling, his throat burning. He dragged out gazing at the mirror, but eventually met his own eyes, sighing deeply. His eyes were bloodshot. The violaceous circles underneath them were deeper and darker than usual. He could feel, and see, all of the burst blood vessels from puking, which, from far away, almost looked like ginger freckles. Ginger… No matter the subject, his mind went back to that stuck-up executive, Brendol Hux Jr. Was it because he wanted to kill him, or because he wanted more of him? He had no idea. 

After a few seconds of blankly staring at himself, he reached for the medicine cabinet and took two Aspirin, double the dose. This is what he normally did though, due to him being prone to nasty headaches. Letting the medicine kick in, he went and grabbed his outfit for the day, not even bothering to look at the clock. He knew he was late. 

A morning shower was one of his favorite things. A cold one at that. To have the cool water brush along the skin, waking up cooly and calmly, he liked that. He stripped of what was left of last night's clothes, and threw them down on the ground, in contrast to the nicely folded work outfit he had sitting on the toilet. He kept the door to the bathroom open, so the air would stay fresh, and not get too humid from the water, before quickly slipping into the shower, and closing the clear curtains behind him.

The bathroom wasn’t that large, only a half bath with a shower. Ben didn’t exactly care for baths, which he always remarked were only _bathing in your own filth._ The cold, strong beads of water that hit his back suddenly, were pleasing to him, and he let out a little sigh of relief as he felt his muscles relax. He just stood there for a moment, letting the water run down his lanky, yet slightly toned body. _What was Hux doing right now?_ He let his mind wander. Pretty soon, he imagined the other man in front of him, glaring at his naked body. How a thought like that would come to pass is up to interpretation, but Ben just blamed it on the male body and its chemical balance. 

Although it was a bit distracting, morning wood was a normal annoyance for Ben, so he just turned the water a bit colder, and it went away soon enough. While this was happening, he lathered up his large amounts of hair with some flowery smelling 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner. He didn’t care that it was a ‘women’s’ soap. It made his hair look _good._ After that, he quickly scrubbed down his normally sweaty areas, noting that he had to shave soon. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked a giant bush, at least on himself. Since he was so late though, he decided it would have to wait, and shut the water off, quickly stepping out.

Drying himself wasn’t exactly a complicated process, but it did take a few minutes for him to blow dry his hair. Once that was done, he changed into his work clothes. They comprised of some khakis, which were a bit short for his long legs, with some grey shaded argyle socks, and a brown belt. His shirt, which he found slightly wrinkled, was the generic blue most office-workers wore, which he slipped on without an undershirt. It fit him just right, a little tight around his toned arms. He then slipped out of the bathroom, slipped on some deer stags, and walked out the door.

Brendol woke up with a slight ring to his ears, but nothing more. He was used to parties similar to the previous night. He couldn’t even think of how many he had gone to. Ever since he had gotten ranked up enough, he was always climbing higher. He sat there, in bed, naked, thinking about how far he had come in the past few years. It made him smile. He turned to check the time on his rather boring stainless steel alarm clock. The time was 6:05 AM. He still had plenty of time to get ready. In a matter of less than twenty minutes, he was clean and spiffy, his outfit on the casual side, compared to the rest of his outfits. 

He wore a white button up, freshly ironed, with a salmon cardigan, a bit big on him. He looked good anyways. His bottoms consisted of khakis, and some expensive looking loafers. He didn’t have any meetings today, so he figured he would relax, and get into comfortable clothing. His hair was brushed back, and slicked up a bit. He mentally noted that it was getting a little long in the back, and he would need a cut soon. His face was silky smooth, and he smelled of aftershave and his signature cologne. He was off to work, and got there about twenty minutes ahead of schedule. 

Ben was not having a good work-day. One of his co-workers were out, so he was forced to do almost double the amount of papers as a usual day. His desk looked like something out of a cartoon, two mugs of coffee half drunk, and piles upon piles of papers to edit. He had already gotten yelled at for being late, so the day had started out with a bad energy, the hangover just making it worse. It was about noon, and he had about a gallon of coffee in his system, along with a slightly smaller pile of unfiled papers. He was about to grab a mortgage payment, when he felt something vibrate against his thigh. It made him jump. He had thought it was a hand. Eventually he realized it was his phone, which he took out, seeing he had received a message from his step-sister, Rey. 

Rey : _Hey! Mom and I miss you a lot! Hope you’re having a lot of fun in NY.._

He just sighed, not wanting to deal with anything family related at the moment. He was about to put his phone back when it buzzed again, this time with an unfamiliar number. 

+1-518-555-0138: _Ben, I heard you’ve recently moved into the city. I love the work that your grandfather has done, and I was hoping to get to know you better. I am having a small party, Today at 7 PM. I’m sorry it’s such late notice. I do hope you can come.  
-Lando Calrissian_

Ben couldn’t believe his eyes. Was this a prank? Had he just gotten the number of _the_ Lando Calrissian? Lead singer of Biting Star? He read it over again. It also included an address to drive to. How had he even gotten his number? He couldn’t wrap his head around any of it, so decided to reply as quickly as he could, before he forgot about it.

Ben: _I’d love to come! I’m excited to meet you!_

He quickly deleted the exclamation points, replacing them with periods, and then quickly hit send. He was 22, not 12. The rest of his day included more paperwork, and plenty of worrying. First, he hoped he wouldn’t make as much of an ass of himself as he had the night previous. Second, he began to think of the reality of what he had just been invited to: Would there be drugs? He had never smoked anything other than a cigarette before, but eventually he reasoned with himself that pot was similar to alcohol. He also was figuring out what to wear to the party, and constantly checking his phone for a response. He never got one.

It was around the same time when Hux received a text as well, from Lando. He hadn’t talked to that man in a while. In years prior, they had been known as the “partners in crime” due to their vivacious partying, and what it had led to. He shook his head, not wanting to think about that. He quickly finished his lunch, a chicken caesar salad wrap, and wiped his hands delicately with a towel. His hands had always been regarded as one of his most attractive parts, due to their delicate nature, long and lanky stature, and surprising strength. They looked wise and knowing, far more used than a 30 year-old’s hands should be. He brushed off a last crumb, before reading the entirety of the text:

Lando - _Heya Brendol! Been a while, but I’d really like to get things swinging again. Don’t worry, there won’t be any heroin this time. Tonight at seven, at my private bar. Hope to see you there~  
-Calrissian_

Hux couldn’t help but chuckle at the message, the memories floating through his mind. He went to throw out his garbage, and then responded, typing quickly with his nimble fingers.

Hux - _Sounds nice. It’s been a while. I’ll see you there._

A man like hux was always straight and to the point. No matter if it were wanting to get something done a certain way, wanting someone to do something, or sending texts, he always had an abrupt and concentrated nature to him. Some liked it, some hated it; Hux was apathetic towards their views. 

The two men were having days on polar coordinates, lying on exact opposites of each other. Hux had made quite a few wise investing choices, and he could just _feel_ his income going up, slowly but surely. He had enjoyed a homemade lunch, which had tasted better than the usual wrap he made. There was this secretary who had been flirting with him for the whole week he had worked at the building, but Hux smiled when he heard that the boy was on leave because of work behaviour. Good. They needed to get the kid in line. I mean, he didn’t blame the kid for flirting, but Brendol Hux was a very big name in the city, and he should know better than to mess with him. After the nice memory trip with the text from Lando, his day was like any other, including him, sitting at his big desk and going through files and sites on his computer. 

Ben, on the other hand, was, in his mind, in the Seventh Layer of Hell. He had enjoyed pure nausea for the first few hours of the day, along with the great news of his co-worker calling in, so he had double the work to do. The only break he had during that day was at lunch, when he received the invitation from Lando. It made him happy, and made him forget about his shitty day for a little bit. This was until he had to run to the bathroom to cough up the hot dog he had eaten for lunch. His body did NOT like when he got drunk. At all. After he had cleaned himself, he went back to work, almost falling asleep twice, but waking up suddenly to the sound of a co-worker’s printer. It felt like years until he could finally punch out. 

After those last few minutes of waiting, Ben jogged out to his car, an old toyota, nothing special, and turned the ignition. Ideally, his apartment was about fifteen minutes from his job, but there was a lot of traffic on this day. After the fifth red light in a row, he began to get angry, turning on his radio. He would have to deal with this bullshit pop music for the time being. Any music calmed him down a bit. When he finally got to his house, he made a shitty parking job, knowing he would probably get a ticket, but not caring, and slamming the door. He had to clear his mind before he went to that party. He couldn’t go all fuming and messy like this. He needed to relax. A deep breath escaped his lips as he walked into his room, sighing, and laying on the black sheets of his bed. 

Tonight would not be like the last. He would count his drinks. He kept telling himself this. Hell, maybe he would even get laid. After laying on his stomach, still, for a few minutes, he turned to his back, and slipped off his khakis, along with his button up. Now in just his grey briefs, he sighed, gently rubbing his legs. He was feeling a lot better than yesterday, and his hangover was finally dispersing. 

_Relax.._ He told himself. 

He barely even registered his hand moving under the hem of his boxers. 

_Let go of this stress._ He thought. 

A light touch of the inner thigh. A caress of his messy, untrimmed hair. There was nothing wrong with this, he just needed to unwind. 

His eyes closed slowly, as he felt his hand touch his glans, ever so softly. He had to keep reminding himself that nothing was wrong with this. He could feel the blood in his body focus on his pelvic region, forgetting about the rest for the time being. After a few rubs to the tip, he was beginning to feel it. 

Getting hard was always a problem for Ben. Not like most, who _couldn’t_ get it up, but the exact opposite. Ever since puberty, he had been extremely sensitive, and easily stimulated. In his freshman year of high school, he remembered bumping his dick against a desk and getting hard from that. From the moment his balls dropped, he was in a constant state of hormonal imbalance. Obviously he learned to live with it, but this came with the price of jerking it every now and then to please his libido.   
He was half hard now, just from rubbing himself a bit, and he sighed, looking over at his phone. Was porn a good idea?... He opened his browser, quickly making a private window, and going to a porn search engine. Without thinking, he absently typed in redhead, and clicked on the first video. It involved a ginger woman, getting fucked. Pretty basic. It took about five seconds for him to be fully jerking himself. What surprised him, is that the fake moans from the porn star weren’t really affecting him, but the few times that the man moaned, it made his dick twitch. 

He hadn’t really looked into his sexuality much, not really caring. He had grown up in a very diverse environment, with accepting parents. He quickly shook the thought of his parents from his head, closed the tab, and slowly let his eyes close, his imagination taking over.

Like most, he imagined someone else touching him other than himself. He tried to think of the ginger girl, but suddenly his mind conjured up slender, yet masculine hands on him. He just let the feelings flow, stroking with a slightly faster pace now. His mind kept going, adding more and more features. A man, on his knees, red hair… 

Without him knowing, that man he had met at last night’s party appeared in his vision. He made a small noise, nothing major, surprised at himself for thinking of him this way. Why would Hux come to mind? He hated this guy. Hated him and his perfect fucking face. 

By now he was stroking furiously, his briefs slipping down to his knees. Why the hell was he getting turned on by this guy? It was usually some generic twink, if any man, in his mind. His hands were slipping now, the slick of his arousal taking over his hand and his mind. Soon, he thought, this would be over, and he would be stress free. He stroked especially hard, unable to help a small whimper escape from his lips as he came, shooting it up to his mid-chest. He panted, extremely overtaken by the feeling, and letting himself fall into it. His eyes were closed tightly, but he opened them slowly, looking up at the ceiling. 

What the hell was going on with his mind. 

After about five minutes of just breathing and laying down, Ben slowly stood up, chuckling to himself. He had cum a lot, and rubbed it off, quickly grabbing another clean pair of briefs. After slipping them on, he went to his closet to find something to wear. Should he be causal, since it was the weekend, or should he dress up because the party was at Lando’s _private_ bar. He decided on the former, slipping into some skinny jeans (with some difficulty at that), and a tight fitting t-shirt. He had worked to get a bit more meat on his bones over the years, and he liked how he looked, wearing tight clothing a lot. The main problem with skinny jeans was his dick. It had always just been there, in the way when he didn’t want to deal with it. He considered himself pretty impressive, mostly a shower, but a bit of a grower. This gave him a lot of attention at parties, especially when he wore tight pants. After his clothes were on, he grabbed some dirty socks and slipped on some converse, sighing, and going to the bathroom to freshen up.  
\--

Getting home a bit early, Hux sat down on his couch, reading something dense. It had to do with the history of Wall Street, and he mostly chose it because his father was on the cover. They hadn’t talked in months, due to some fiasco with the two of them investing on different companies, and Hux Jr coming out on time. He refused to think that was the truth, just thinking his father needed some time to himself. Their relationship hadn’t been the best, ever since he had gone off to college, and his father had started treating him like a “real man”. Nonetheless, he was over it, loving to read about his father as if he were a US president.

The time passed a lot more rapidly than he had anticipated, and the next time he looked at the clock, it was 6:00 PM. 

“Shit..” He said out loud, quickly closing the book, which he was about halfway finished with, and getting up with a start. He felt a slight dizzy spell from doing this, confirming that he really had been sitting like that for too long. Eventually he made it to the bathroom, straightening out his tie and using a lint roller to get the small bits of orange cat hair out of his jacket and pants. As if he were being called, suddenly, a small orange cat appeared from the shadows, mewling softly as it saw Hux. He just smiled, looking down at it and making a little kiss sound towards it. 

That cat had been in his life longer than any of his relationships. Millicent, the name he had given him, was about seven years old, and was Hux’s best friend. Sure, he might go out to party a lot, but when he wasn’t, he was cuddling with this little orange ball of sunshine. After brushing his hair and spraying it back in its normal do, he gently pet the cat, smiling. A few minutes of this passed, and he felt relaxed, going back to fixing himself up. He reapplied deodorant and cologne, before finally going to get a different tie, more fitting to this evening party he was attending. The one he chose was navy blue, with a corsage of white drawn stars, custom made by a friend of his. He absolutely loved it, and kept it very clean and wrinkle-less. 

Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, he cleared his throat, and brushed his teeth, grabbing his wallet and phone, before calling to get a ride to the party.

At the same time, Ben was calling a taxi, not wanting to bother running around for one. 

Neither of them knew the other was going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long guys! The next ones gonna have some action in it, so be ready >_>  
> Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated!


	3. First Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lando's party goes better than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - recreational drug use and swearing in this chapter.

The ride to the party was absolutely atrocious for Ben. First, before he could even find a dreaded cab, some asshole with a truck went speeding past him, water splattering on the side of his jeans. It soaked through to his skin, which created one of his least favorite feelings, of damp fabric against his bare skin. He could barely swim with a speedo, even the small amount of fabric incredibly irritating to him. Now, with the feeling multiplied by twenty, he was already furious.

Although he was pretty tall, and pretty noticeable, he seemed to have some spell on him that made him invisible to every single cab driver in New York City. And there were a lot of them. He swore he counted about ten cabs pass by as he frantically waved, probably looking like some sort of maniac. 

After about five minutes, a rundown cab, paint chipped almost everywhere, pulled over to the sidewalk Ben was presently on. If he wasn’t running behind, he would have shooed him away, wanting a more pristine cab. Who could blame him though, he wanted to look presentable when he arrived. But that mindset was gone, now only rage going through his head. The dirty water had dried on his pants, leaving a small stain, still slightly uncomfortable. He slipped into the cab, almost slamming the door on his own foot, and cursing under his breath.

Eventually, after regaining his composure, he spoke to the driver in a low and quiet voice, trying to seem calm,

“You know where Lando’s is?”

The man just stared at his rearview mirror for a moment, giving Ben a skeptical look. It was almost as if he thought that the younger man didn’t fit in or belong at one of Lando’s little get togethers. After sighing, he nodded, and began to drive, pressing the gas a bit too fast and lurching the car forward. Ben gave an intense glare after this, seemingly angry again, before leaning down to start brushing off his jeans. 

This cab ride was one of the worst Ben had ever had in his life. The man driving was incredibly loud, both when he spoke, and when he chewed on the obscene amount of gum in his mouth. He wanted to punch something. Ever since he was little, Ben had gotten motion sick easily, so stopping and starting in Manhattan’s traffic made everything worse. He could see that there was a line of cars in front of the bar, so he asked the cab driver to drop him off about a block away, so he could walk. He had a little time.

\--

Everything was planned, and had a specific part and order. This is how Hux liked it. 

After checking to see if he had any reminders or tasks he hadn’t taken care of on his phone, he quickly called Uber, wanting to arrive at Lando’s with style. After setting the necessary prerequisites, and making sure to repeat that the car had to look _clean,_ he sat down, sighing in relief. He then checked his wallet for the third time, realizing he didn’t have his breath mints with him, a commodity he couldn’t live without. After going to a cupboard to grab a small tin, he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket, startling him a bit. 

He picked it up, and quickly skimmed the text.  
_+1(512)555-0193 : Hux, your Uber driver is arriving in a Lincoln Navigator._

A smile spread across his lips. That was a nice model. He could raise his expectations a bit, knowing that the car would atleast be aesthetically pleasing. After one last pocket and wallet check, he grabbed his phone and walked out of his door, promptly locking it. Turning around, he saw a large white SUV, complete with a driver wearing a polo shirt. It wasn’t a suit, but it was better than nothing. 

He stepped into the car, a bit disappointed that the driver didn’t open the door for him, but smiled at him nonetheless, handing him his credit card, which he had gotten specially made with a gold trim. The man looked at it for a second, in awe, before quickly swiping it on his machine, and handing it back to him.

“Where would you like to go, sir?” 

His mind blanked for a moment, before he quickly blurted out Lando’s address, his accent going a bit thick for a moment. He cleared his throat, and looked up at the other man, thankful that he had understood when he started putting it into his GPS. It was 6:40. Brendol Hux was always early to the party. It was sort of his thing. And now, because he had zoned out for a few minutes, he would break his perfect party attendance, unless there was absolutely no traffic. And this was Manhattan, so the chance was slim to none. 

As the minutes passed, he became more anxious, remembering why he always came early. He didn’t want to make a dramatic entrance. He wanted to watch others enter, observe. Every time they stopped at a red light, he counted it, the total coming to about seven before he was finally on the block of Lando’s bar. By this time, he had already chewed his lips to bits out of nervousness, and his palms were white from clenching his fists. He checked the time again.

 _7:01._ He looked up from his phone, examining the people walking towards the bar. 

Shit. 

That boy. The one he had briefly met at Phasma’s place. He was right there. 

And he was walking the same direction that Hux was.

It seemed like the younger man was thinking the same thing as Hux. He wore the same facial expression, the same uneasy step, and the same all-around nervous aura. Again, the fact that this man was competition snapped into Hux’s head, and his first thought was to intimidate him.

With those piercing green eyes, he gave Ben the same stare he had at the previous party. The difference this time, was that Ben reciprocated. They both kept pretty good poker faces, and since Ben’s stride was a bit longer, he walked ahead of Hux, getting into the party first. Furrowing his brows, Hux followed, softly thanking the doorman and heading inside. 

\--

The bar was on the small side, compared to much, but it had this almost.. Fancy cantina feel. When they entered, Ben was taken aback by a very strong, pungent scent, which Hux immediately recognized as marijuana. Seeing Ben’s reaction, he chuckled, but also pretended he had nothing to do with the other man. 

They both took seats at about the same time, Ben at the barstool furthest left, Hux the closest he could get to the right. After his day at work, he felt like he deserved a nice drink, so the ginger ordered a fancy scotch on the rocks. 

Knowing it was wise not to drink too much, Ben ordered a coke and rum, the loud club music pounding in his head. He sipped it slowly, savoring the taste, and feeling a little more comfortable than last time. This is when he began to truly take in his surroundings. To his left was the lounge, filled with drunk and high people, most of them thirsty for attention or touch. To his right was Hux, along with an older woman he didn’t see before. Had she just gotten there? She was conversing with Hux in a low tone, so Ben couldn’t hear, but that just peaked his curiosity more, as he unconsciously ordered another coke and rum. 

All Hux had really wanted to do at this party was enjoy himself. It had been a while since he had done that, and Lando was very good at helping him let go and relax a bit. Now, this was without distractions. Without _competition_. After only five minutes of sitting and drinking his scotch, two commodities had appeared around him, both annoyingly distracting. First of all, there was Ben, the party virgin, almost drooling at him from across the room. It was obvious he was trying to hide the fact that he was staring, but that just made it worse, Hux only giving glares in response every now and then. 

The second distraction was more.. In his face. He knew that there would be some slutty people at the party, knowing Lando, he expected as much. What he didn’t expect though, was after three or so sips of his scotch, he was interrupted by an older woman sitting next to him. He looked up, keeping a stoic expression, and she smiled wide. He noted that her teeth were yellowing, and she clearly didn’t take proper care for them. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable due to her smile. She promptly started talking.

“Buy me a drink honey?”

The second he heard her voice, he was repulsed. It was scratchy, and sounded like she had been drinking for the past hour, asking any half decent guy the same question. He pondered what to do. If he bought her a drink, that would prompt her to keep flirting with him, but if he didn’t he would be seen as cheap, and he did not want to do that. He decided on the former.

“..What would you like?” 

He tried to sound as polite as possible, but just the presence of this woman was irritating him, so the question came out a bit hostile.

“Hmm….” She bit her lip, obnoxiously, before giving him the best bedroom eyes she could muster,

“Anything you want, honey…”

The overuse of that word was starting to get on his nerves. He sighed, and ordered her a beer, so he could shut her up. The bartender gave him a sad look, as if he had seen multiple men be tricked by this very woman. She sipped it obscenely, and he wondered if she had any shame at all. 

Ben watched this whole ordeal happen. Sipping his drink, he couldn't help but smirk as Hux got almost harassed by this lady. At one point, he actually let out a giggle. This was because it was funny, but also due to the fact he was getting drunk again. He didn't exactly know what a good serving of rum was, and there were a few shots in every rum and coke, so he lost it pretty quickly. 

His head was spinning a little, and he felt lighter, due to the drinks and possibly the secondary high he was getting from all the people smoking pot at the party. It felt good. 

At one point though, he saw the old woman put a hand on Hux’s thigh. He didn’t pull away, but he definitely didn't look like he wanted to continue this affair. A spark of envy went through his system. _He_ could be the one flirting with Hux. And unlike this whore, he might actually get somewhere. He sighed, and took another sip of his third drink. 

\--

After about a minute of peace and staring blankly at the line of drinks in front of him, Hux got tapped on the shoulder again, sighing. What did this lady want now? With an annoyed and completely apathetic look on his face, he turned around, only to be surprised with a familiar face.

“Brendol! My man!” 

The voice emanated from none other than Hux’s old friend, Lando. A smile quickly spread across the gingers face, as he held out his hand to shake the other man’s. The handshake he received was a bit too enthusiastic, leaving him a bit shaken. He chuckled.

“Lando. Its nice to see you..” His voice cracked slightly, but he was a bit buzzed, so he let it slide. He then looked him over, admiring his suit. He recognized the design. 

Seeing that Hux was a bit uncomfortable, Lando patted him on the back, and reached into his suit pocket. After a bit of fumbling, he picked a small container of white powder from the pocket, handing it to Hux with a smirk.

“Told you this party would be fun. Now how about you go loosen up?” 

\--

At this time, Ben was still sipping his drink, and watching them. He watched the man he recognized as Lando walk over to Hux, and smirked as the lady got jealous. Eventually, she left, which gave Ben a sense of almost pride. 

He had finished his drink. He went to order another one, asking to go light on the rum this time. He was handed the soda, and he nodded, before looking back to where the other men were sitting. He was a bit surprised to see both of them gone, all three seats in the bar now vacant. His eyes wandered, wondering where Hux had went. He saw Lando conversing with other guests, but Hux was nowhere to be found. 

He stood up, and was suddenly startled by the wave of dizziness that overcame him. And the sudden urge to piss. It was probably because he had sat down for so long. 

Eventually he got to the door of the bathroom, pushing it open slowly. What he saw next caught him off guard. 

In front of him, he saw Brendol Hux Jr, kneeling in front of the bathroom sink. At first he thought that the man had passed out, right there on the sink. His eyes widened when he heard a snort, as if the man had a bad cold. It took him a few moments to process what Hux was doing; He had never seen anyone do anything more hardcore than pot, and so this was a shock to him. He had heard that famous people snorted coke, but he thought it was just a rumour. 

With a long stare, he watched silently as Hux snorted a line with ease. It was oddly attractive to him. Maybe it was the danger of the drug, or maybe it was just the fact it was Hux doing it. Either way, Ben sucked in a sharp breath, before the door closed behind him, making a clicking noise. 

This was the second line that Hux had snorted. The first one was incredibly intense, causing his breath to turn heavy, and his heart to race. Thankfully, no one witnessed him groan out when he hit his first high. After savoring the feeling for a few minutes, he set up another, smaller line with a shaky hand. Rolling back up the 20 dollar bill he used for the first one, he slowly inhaled the white powder. 

This is when Ben bursted in. Well, he didn’t exactly notice him burst in, until he heard the door click, and heard the breath of the younger man. With the line halfway done, and coke covering his nose, he turned around, glaring at Ben.

...Then… He smirked, letting out a soft chuckle. He was high as hell. He was not in control of his thoughts and speech. 

“What? Never seen coke before? I thought you were a fuckin’ model.” 

His voice fluctuated a lot as he said this. Ben was speechless for a few seconds. He watched as Hux wiped the coke from his nose, the powder gently illuminated by the florescent lighting of the bathroom. He then realized that Hux was making fun of him. No one made fun of a Solo. Walking closer, now hovering over Hux in an ominous manner, he glared down. 

“Of course I’ve seen fucking coke. Just didn’t expect a pussy like you to be doing it.”

The truth was, Ben had never done any sort of drug. But he _had_ seen people do it in movies, so he had a basic idea. He took out a twenty dollar bill that he had in his pocket, crisply folded once. It looked like it had come straight out of a minting plant. He liked that fact. He wanted to show this pretentious Brendol that he was just as righteous as him, and better. 

The ginger man snorted out a laugh, and looked down at the small jar of white powder. He poured out a bit, and then took what looked like his credit card, making a line out of it. Moving out of the way of the sink, he waved a sarcastic hand gesture, expecting Ben to follow suit. 

Ben walked up, his stride quick but steady, to the sink. As he did this, he started rolling up the 20 dollar bill into a tube. Once this task was finished, he had already stopped in front of the sink, and took a minute to look into the mirror. His eyes were a bit glazed, most likely due to the alcohol in his system. After thinking for a second, he realized that dwelling on how many drinks he had consumed probably wasn’t a good idea. 

He looked down at the white powder in front of him. It didn’t look any different from flour. He wondered how something as plain as this powder could sell for so much money. Again, he chose not to dwell, giving Hux a small side glance before bending down, his shirt riding up a bit, showing off his tight pants. It took him a moment to decide which nostril to pick (he picked the right), but eventually he lined up the bill with the line, held his other nostril, and breathed in, getting the entire line down in one snort.

The high was almost instant. He felt as if all of the blood in his body started pumping faster, and his head felt light. This was euphoria. He was almost absolutely sure of it. What was the phrase people used.. On cloud nine? That was it. Although he wasn’t conscious of this, he let out a small sound of pleasure, almost a moan. His eyes widened a bit, and he stumbled back, the sudden headrush making him a bit woozy. 

After regaining his composure, Ben looked over at the man who had been watching him. A wide smile crossed his face. He had just done his first illegal drug. And it felt… good. A small, giddy laugh escaped from his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing.

Hux had been watching him this whole time; Analyzing. Well, analyzing the best he could while high. Sure, he had a higher tolerance for Coke, but just the sight of this kid snorting the same shit he had distracted him from his plan of analyzing. Before he realizes, Ben Solo is standing next to him, looking up at the ceiling, a smile on his face. He couldn't help but smile back.

They both stay there for a few minutes, similar thoughts going through their heads. Most of them went along with something similar to “I snorted better than him”, “Holy shit he’s hot”, or “He’s all bark and no bite.” If they had been able to read each other’s minds, they would have been horrifyingly similar. 

After the first few minutes of his high, Ben felt himself calm down a little, and he looked over at Hux. _God.. He’s pretty…_ After staring for a few seconds, he muttered, only a bit above a whisper,

“I need more of that.” 

His voice was hoarse, and he sniffled after he spoke. These aspects were oddly satisfying for Hux to hear and see, and if it weren’t for the attractiveness of Ben, he would’ve refused. With a sigh, he walked over to the sink, and screwed on the cap of the jar, handing it to Ben. He could always get more from Lando anyways. 

“Don’t overdo it, kid.”

His tone was penalizing, and he smirked knowingly at Ben, handing him the jar. With long, thin hands, Ben gently took it, putting it in his pocket. 

At that point, Hux figured that his job was done, and after about thirty seconds of intense staring, he quietly turned and started to walk out of the bathroom. He was stopped though, with a hand landing on his shoulder, halting him.

“...Gotta phone?” Ben asked, a hint of shyness in his voice. 

Hux’s mouth twisted into the smallest grin, and he turned around, holding his hand out, expecting Ben to have his phone ready. Of course he didn’t, his mind racing on a million different things. It took him a moment to rummage through his pockets before he found his phone, handing it to Hux. While he was doing this, Brendol took out his phone as well, both of them exchanging electronics for a minute. After names and phone numbers were entered, the phones were returned to their rightful owners. The deed was done. 

With that, Hux left the bathroom, not saying another word. Ben Stood there for a while, studying the number that had been put down, and the name. He sniffled, and rubbed his nose, feeling an itch coming on. Turns out, he had rubbed too hard.

A small stream of blood started dripping down the Solo’s nose. It took him a second to realize it, but he soon tasted the familiar iron taste of blood, and quickly went to grab some toilet paper. It must be because of the cocaine, he thought, seeing that it was the right nostril. It must have made his nose extremely sensitive. Looking in the mirror as he did it, he began to patch up the bleeding, holding the bridge of his nose with one hand while dabbing the blood with the other. Thankfully, the nosebleed wasn’t big, and only lasted about two minutes.

After cleaning himself off, he sighed, throwing out the tissues, and finally walking out the bathroom door. This was definitely a night he would remember for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post! I've had a lot of school work to catch up on. Anyways, I hope you like this chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](boring-homosexual.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you readers liked it! I have a small outline up to chapter seven, so updates shouldn't take that long.  
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated <3  
> -Tom
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](boring-homosexual.tumblr.com)


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